Thank you, Amir Agha
by Marcelee
Summary: One-shot rewrite of Chapter Twenty-Five. Rated T for mature themes. TW: Self harm, suicide.
I woke with a start, my head buzzing with confused thoughts and questions. I moved to sit up, but was met with a sudden, very sharp pain in my left arm. All at once, the memory came rushing back to remind me of every painful detail - the broken promise from Amir agha, falling asleep only to be faced with nightmares, and then waking up and meeting a reality no worse than my dreams. I recalled sneaking out of his arms, then going to the bathroom to retrieve the razor that I had discovered stashed away in the cabinet earlier. I had been happy earlier, though, believing that everything might be okay and that I could go live with the nice man...but now that any hope of that life had been entirely obliterated, there was nothing left for me: no happiness or hope. I would have to go back to that horrible orphanage until that monster or one of his men came for me. But that razor, it could save me… It was my new source of hope, and my only window to freedom or happiness. The relief that it could provide me, the hellish life it could pull me out of… it was my only escape.

The present burning in my arm made it impossible to forget what had happened after that. I had taken the blade, and dug it deep into my skin, pursuing its promise of hope the harder I pressed. I sliced my skin over and over again, the cuts eventually becoming sloppier as I continued, then everything fading to black.

And then waking up like this.

I opened my eyes, the urge to finish what I had started burning a hole through all other thoughts. I looked around the room in a futile attempt to distract myself. I was surrounded by the bare white walls of what I assumed was a hospital, as my father had once described to me when he had talked about his childhood. The thought of him somewhat comforted me, but also filled me with self-loathing and regret thinking of how disappointed and heartbroken he would be in me if he saw me like this...so weak when he was strong, so quick to give up when he would have fought. I sighed to myself, then glanced down at my body. There was a relatively large needle stuck in the top of my arm, and my forearm appeared to be sewn shut. Confused and terrified, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, and I allowed myself a couple of sniffles before attempting to pull myself together. _Be strong for Hassan...for Amir agha. You've had enough weakness for today._

I wiped away several tears that had found their way down my cheeks, then pulled the hospital blanket up to my chest. The clothes I was wearing - some sort of strange, light garment - were quite comfortable, but not incredibly warm or efficient in storing heat. I then struggled to readjust myself in the bed, pointing myself towards the window, although I shut my eyes only moments later. I felt overwhelmed by the emptiness consuming me, and my mind was once more being assaulted by the voices in my head, pushing me to continue what I had started, telling me how worthless I was and what a burden I was quickly becoming. A loud creak from the door interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to glance at who it was, silently praying that it wasn't Amir… He was a very kind man, but I was already drowning in guilt, and as I saw the worried yet relieved look upon his face, I felt new waves of it crashing over me. I quickly turned back around in the bed to avert my gaze from him. I immediately began feeling incredibly self-conscious. The stitches on my arm, my pale skin, and the bruises that stood out on my arms burned with embarrassment, and I shifted about in the bed in an attempt to hide them. _Would he still want me if he knew how broken I am?_ The question seared through my mind, and immediately conjured up a variety of worst-case scenarios...him confirming my beliefs and finally telling me how worthless I am and then he plans to leave after throwing me back into the orphanage where I wouldn't be able to cause him any more problems. I struggled to picture his face as he would tell me this, but eventually managed to procure an image of him twisting his face, obviously repulsed by me.

My thoughts were interrupted once more, this time by him clearing his throat. I realized that tears were beginning to well up in the corners of my eyes, and regret flooded my mind. This was my fault, for deluding myself into believing that I could have been happy. The words of the cruel Talib man played over and over in my head: "You're a Hazara...you know what that means, don't you? It means that you, you flat-nosed, slant-eyed, pathetic waste of space, are a lesser _creature_ than us pure Afghans. You aren't even a person, more like a...dog. And you know what they do to broken, nasty, unloved, and unwanted dogs like you? They put them down. I mean, it isn't like anyone cares, it's a way of 'taking out the trash', one might say…"

I felt myself shaking, and I my hand reached for my arm, longing for a razor so I could carry out the wishes of the man and myself. He had been right, after all. I should've been put down. At this point, I couldn't hold back my tears. I shouldn't be here. At this point, I couldn't hold back my tears. I lay in the hospital bed, sniffling and sobbing pitifully.

"You're safe, Sohrab."

Amir's voice reached out to me, pulling me from the endless pit of despair I was falling into. I had forgotten that he was still there.

"I'm so sorry for doing this to you…" His voice was shaky, and exposed tones of disappointment.

 _Is he apologizing to me?_

"I'm not ever going to let you go back to an orphanage every again. I'll keep you safe...I promise. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again, okay? I'm so sorry…"

His apologies came as a surprise to me, and I still had no idea what he was apologizing for.

 _Did he think it was his fault?_

I heard his footsteps growing closer, and then he came into my sight and sat down in the one chair in the room, right next to my bed. I stared at him, unsure of what to say. "Amir…" I began, my voice already betraying me with its shaky tone. "...Thank you for all you've done for me." I saw the expression on his face shift from that of discomfort and incredibly guilt to a perplexed, more relieved expression.

"I am sorry, Amir agha, for causing you so much trouble, I understand if you wish to leave me-"

He didn't give me a chance to finish, and interrupted me with a stern, serious tone.

"Absolutely not. I won't leave you, Sohrab. When I first came here, no, I didn't know that I would be taking you back home with me. But when I saw you, not with the horrible man or any of that, when I really saw _you._ I saw your father. I saw myself. I saw a beautiful young boy. I saw an innocent, wonderful child who doesn't deserve the horrible cards dealt to him in life. I saw a child that I knew I loved. I saw a child that I wanted to protect, to take care of, and to love. I knew that I wanted to bring you back home with me, that I wanted to give you the world. I've already made the mistake of not protecting someone I cared for one in my life, and I won't let that be you. So no, I'm not going to leave you. I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe and make you happy, okay? We're family. And I love you."

He seemed so confident, yet so afraid at the same time. Before I knew it, my cheeks were wet once more with the tears that flowed from my eyes. Incapable of formulating the words for a proper response, I leaned forwards and wrapped my arms around him to hug him. He leaned in to close the space between us, and he gently placed his arms around me, holding me protectively and reassuringly in his embrace. It was strange, the affection. It had seemed like an eternity ago since I had been touched like this, and felt loved… I buried my head in his shirt and moved my arms to cling onto this newfound hope and...happiness.

"Thank you, Amir Agha."

5/1/2016


End file.
